


Sleepin' On a Razor

by Tiofrean



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Boys In Love, Daryl Dixon to the Rescue, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nesting, They never left the prison, Walker Bites, Werewolf Bites, Werewolf Turning, a touch of angst, werewolf!Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:10:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: When Daryl comes back from his hunt, he learns about Rick being missing. Using his werewolf senses, he manages to find his friend... What can a werewolf do to save the man he loves?





	Sleepin' On a Razor

**Author's Note:**

> Life's getting busy again, everyone! May not post as often as I did during the summertime, but I'll try my best to keep up. 
> 
> Huge thanks to MermaidSheenaz for betaing this fic <3 
> 
> Enjoy some werewolves! :)

Daryl grunted and cursed, dragging the heavy buck all the way back to the prison. The hunt had been good - so good that he didn’t regret getting out at the crack of dawn in the pouring rain. He had long since dried up, got sweaty again, took a dive in the little creek that ran a few hundred yards away from the prison, and was back to sweating his ass off dragging the carcass through the muddy field. Dogs liked to play around in the mud… _werewolves hated it with passion._

It was so good to finally see the prison looming in the distance.

What wasn’t good was Maggie’s worried face when she ran to him, waving her hand to get his attention.   
“Rick’s not with you?” She half asked, half stated, surprise evident in her voice. Daryl shook his head, frowning. She smelled of fear and concern, something Daryl’s wolf senses picked up immediately.   
“Nah, went alone. Didn’t even see ‘im in t’ mornin’.”   
“Shit…” Maggie mumbled, glancing at the buck. “Let me help you with that?”   
“Sure.” Daryl nodded, then waited for Maggie to grab one of the legs. Together, they dragged it all the way to the prison.

 

-&-

 

Daryl couldn’t stop worry churning his guts and, as soon as the deer was left safely in Carol’s capable hands, he went on to find Rick. Maggie had told him that they had already checked the resident blocks - A and C - and all of their usual watch spots. Glenn had even checked as much as he could of the back of the prison. Carl, together with Beth and Tyreese, had searched the field and Rick’s garden, suspecting he might have had a heat stroke or possibly had just fainted from lack of food. They had all come up with nothing.

Daryl decided to take another approach. He had his fine senses to help, and so, he started with changing into the wolf form, sniffing the air before his paws had even hit the ground. Rick’s scent was faint inside the prison, and Daryl cursed in his mind, walking out of the C block, trying to follow it with his head close to the ground. He passed beside Michonne on his way out, getting only a worried look from his samurai friend.

Rick’s scent was a bit stronger near the picnic tables they had set up right outside the block, and Daryl focused on it, following it further out into the field. The fact that it had been raining in the morning didn’t really help with the search - the ground smelled strongly of grass and wildflowers, and the only scent he was interested in was getting mixed up in all this mess, making it harder to track.

Somehow though, Daryl managed to catch it again near the fence, right next to their water pump. He changed briefly into his human form to open the side gate, noting absentmindedly that it had been closed from the inside. He wandered to the little bridge and looked around, spotting something odd in the tall grass that was growing on the side of the little stream. Eyes narrowed, Daryl picked it up, noticing it was the axe Rick liked to use quite often. He frowned, throwing the axe behind the fence to pick it up later, then went back inside and closed the gate behind him. He changed back into his wolf form and continued his search, head close to the ground, mouth open to let more of the air go through the receptors in his nose.

 

-&-

 

When he had finally found Rick, it was in a small building with the letter G painted on the door of it. It was an attachment to the side of the D block, one they had not yet cleared out completely. The little building was really just a few yards long and just as wide, with a single door and one small, lonely looking window. It had been filled with all kind of clutter and useless items, and they had planned on using it as their extra supply magazine, had they run out of space in the boiler room. Right now, it had a mostly clear floor and three shelves with multiple different items on them.

And _Rick,_ curled up against the wall, sitting on the bare concrete and shaking uncontrollably.

“R’ck!” Daryl croaked mid-shift, ending his transformation and getting closer to his friend, kneeling down next to him immediately. He reached with his hands, one of them finding purchase in Rick’s hair, threading through it carefully. The other, Daryl tucked under Rick’s cheek, turning his face slowly up, stifling his own gasp when he took in Rick’s pale complexion and the deep shadows under his eyes.

“Rick… Jesus _fuck…_ What happened?” Daryl watched as Rick’s eyes opened, blurry and unfocused, bright blue with fever.   
“Daryl?” Rick murmured, low and hoarse, one hand tightening on the thin blanket he was wrapped in. Daryl nodded, gaze running over Rick’s form, completely ignoring his own nakedness - being a werewolf got you used to such inconveniences. After all, he could hardly shift while wearing his clothes and not worry about shredding them to pieces.

“I’m sorry…” Rick whispered, curling tighter into himself, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.   
“No need… what happened?” Daryl asked again, trying to untuck the blanket a little, hoping to get a peek underneath and maybe discover what was this all about.   
“Couldn’t let them find me…” Rick went on, voice low. His breathing was shallow and he was still trembling, his shaky hand pulling the fabric away and revealing a dark stain on the side of his chest.

_Blood._

_“What?”_ Daryl couldn’t really believe in what his eyes were seeing. There, right over Rick’s ribs, a dark, bloodied patch was blooming on the material of his shirt, torn in a few places. The holes matched perfectly to the one thing Daryl still feared at the end of the world - it was a _bite._ And not just any bite, it was quite clear, even if Daryl’s brain refused to put it into words, that it was a _walker_ bite.

 _Oh fuck._ No.

“Rick?” It was all Daryl could say. His mind was running through a thousand different scenarios, each one of them worse than the previous, but Rick’s name was all that filtered out. _“How?”_   
“I was… repairing the pump… got distracted. They snuck up on me…” Rick whispered, glancing at Daryl with his red-rimmed eyes, and that was about as much as Daryl could stand.

They had made a pact - if one of them got bitten without hope to rescue, the other one was supposed to take him out. Cleanly and painlessly. And _not_ let anyone from their family find them, ever. The heartbreak would be just too much.

This? Seeing Rick with his bloodied shirt, with the inevitable teeth-shaped wound Daryl knew that was sitting underneath, like a death’s own bull’s eye waiting for the arrow to hit its mark? That was as unbearable as it could get.

Thinking quickly, Daryl got up and rummaged through the clutter on the shelves. If Rick had come up with a blanket, maybe he could find something else that would be useful here. He browsed through the mess of dusty brushes and buckets, until he found an old-looking, rolled up rug tucked behind the shelving in one of the corners. Shrugging, Daryl pulled it out and unrolled it on the floor - it was just long enough to fit a grown man, and Daryl wasted no time getting back to Rick and helping him lie down on it. It wasn’t a real mattress, but it was better than the cold floor. He was aware that taking Rick to block C and into his bed would be better, but Rick was in no condition to move, if the quiet whines he tried so hard to stifle were anything to go by.

 _Bones like glass…_ that’s what Jim had said, all those months ago. Daryl winced in sympathy, then shifted, padding softly to where Rick was once again curling up into a tight ball. It was clear that he was feverish, his skin shining with a sheen of sweat, body still trembling and out of his control. Daryl huffed, then lied down next to him, fitting his giant wolf body along Rick’s frail frame. He rumbled soothingly when one of Rick’s hands fisted in his fur, and Rick closed his eyes with a sigh. He fell asleep - or at least, that’s what Daryl hoped it was. It could have been coma, he had no way of telling that, really. Lying silently, Daryl tried to come up with some kind of a solution, absentmindedly counting Rick’s staccato breaths.

 

-&-

 

Daryl wasn’t sure what kicked him into moving, but he decided to act finally. The only way out of this that would give Rick even half a chance at surviving, was to change him into a wolf, too. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and there were about a hundred ways it could go wrong, but fifty percent was always better than none, so Daryl took it and ran with it.

He nosed around Rick’s face, trying to wake him up, but his friend was out cold. Having failed at making those incredibly blue eyes look at him, Daryl used his paws and his giant head to turn Rick on his back, then nosed the shirt up and out of the way. The bite mark was ugly, with bruises forming in all directions from the center of it, with blood oozing out of the clear outline of teeth. Shaking his head to clear it a bit, Daryl ducked his head down, sniffing the wound. He reeled back when the stench of _death_ hit him, so _wrong_ on Rick’s still living body.

He couldn’t let Rick die, that was just _not a possibility._ Daryl knew he had a huge crush on Rick… hell, he _loved_ this guy. And he was man enough to admit that. Rick had been the first person ever to actually accept Daryl how he was, no questions asked. And when the questions had finally arrived, they hadn’t been about Daryl’s way of being, but about his _wellbeing._ Daryl had never had a friend like this, and it had come as no surprise when those friendly feelings had turned into something more. Daryl had ignored it the best he could, nursing Rick through Lori’s death and the unstable situation in the prison headquarters. He could live without Rick’s love, he couldn’t live without _Rick._

Taking one last glance at Rick’s blank face, Daryl put both of his front paws on Rick’s body, bracketing the wound and holding him down just in case. Trying hard not to think about how he could be putting out fire with gasoline, Daryl opened his mouth and _bit him._

Rick didn’t even flinch. He was so far gone already that even Daryl’s teeth sinking into his flesh over the walker bite didn’t wake him up. Daryl held his position for a longer moment, biting into Rick’s skin and making sure that the werewolf venom had enough time to flow into his body, before he finally drew away carefully. _That_ earned him a little, breathy whine, and he gave a sigh, relieved that Rick was still alive enough to feel anything. He tried head-butting Rick gently and licking at his hand to get his attention, but Rick remained as he was, eyes closed and body lax, breathing shallowly just like he had before.

Giving a small worried whine of his own, Daryl hurriedly left the little building, directing his steps to the C block. He needed to grab a few things and get back to Rick as soon as possible. He only hoped it wouldn’t turn into a death watch - that would probably mean _two_ bodies in the morning.

 

-&-

 

Daryl had stuffed his backpack with water, canned food and bandages, then loaded his arms full of blankets and pillows from both, his and Rick’s cells. He had a feeling that bandaging the wound wouldn’t really help, but he needed something to do other than to sit and worry about Rick’s state. He was also aware that no matter how many pillows and beddings he had gathered, it wouldn’t be enough to make Rick feel comfortable, but it was always better than one thin blanket and the cold floor under an old rug. He had told their group what had happened and where they were going to be, asking Michonne to check on them in the morning. She had agreed with a nod, eyes full of grim worry and determination.

And now Daryl was back in the G building, dumping his load unceremoniously to the floor as soon as he stepped over the threshold, making his way to Rick and checking on him first. His friend was still alive, a fact that calmed Daryl down tremendously. Rick’s body was still shaking in uneven intervals, the fever running high and making him all twitchy. Hoping to at least help a bit with that, Daryl arranged the blankets and pillows he had brought on the floor, rolling Rick carefully from side to side to place a thick blanket under him for cushioning. Then he cleaned the wound and put a dressing on it, before he let himself lie down next to Rick, spooning up behind him and pulling a much thicker blanket over the both of them. It was worrying that Rick hadn’t woken up through all this, but Daryl tried not to let cold dread eat away at him.

There was time still. They could make it.

 _They,_ because Daryl had no doubt that if Rick had died, he would follow, as soon as he could get a hand on Rick’s Colt. He couldn’t live without him, he _wouldn’t_ live without him. Daryl’s mind refused to comprehend a reality without Rick Grimes in it. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that - werewolves were strong enough to survive a walker bite - Daryl had tested it first-hand when he had been looking for Sophia. He had lived through that, and now, Rick would live through this, too. _He had to._

 

-&-

 

As the evening approached, Rick’s state deteriorated, and by the time the night fell, Daryl was on high alert, wrapped around him in his half-shifted form, keeping Rick’s hands immobile in his own clawed ones. Rick had started to toss and turn sometime between then and now, and with every wild flail of his arms, he had hit them against the concrete floor or the wall. It had resulted in a pained whimper every time, until Daryl had finally had enough, grabbed both of Rick’s hands, and had kept him close every since, hoping to calm him down a bit, too. It didn’t really help, though - Rick kept trying to fight him, and soon, Daryl had a barely conscious, helplessly moaning Rick pressed tightly to him, shaking apart in Daryl’s arms like a fragile piece of glass during an earthquake.

As the morning finally came, and Rick had quieted down a bit, Daryl was so relieved that he had let himself fall asleep, exhaustion pulling him under with shocking speed. Whether Michonne checked in on them or not, Daryl didn’t know, nor care.

When he woke up around noon, it was to a pair of blue eyes he loved so much, staring at him from a decidedly wolfish head. Daryl gasped, then came back to his human form and sat up, eyeing Rick suspiciously, trying to assess whether he was dreaming or not. The wolf lying in front of him was almost silver in color and looked somewhat regal with his ears and muzzle covered in slightly darker fur - not quite black, but not clean brown, either. Daryl reached tentatively with one hand, then grasped the blanket they were still covered with and pulled it down a bit, revealing shreds of broken shirt and denim clinging to the huge wolf body.   
“Rick…” he rasped through his suddenly dry throat, blinking owlishly at the wolf, not quite ready to believe yet.

The wolf gave a soft whine and shuffled around a bit, before he pressed himself to Daryl’s side, tucking his head into Daryl’s neck. Rick’s nose was cold and the wetness of it sent a shiver racing down Daryl’s spine.   
“Thank god…” he mumbled, happiness blooming somewhere inside his chest, spreading warmth through his whole body. He let himself fall back, grinning stupidly at Rick, taking in the way Rick kept on just sitting there and staring at him. “Ya scared me, ya fucker,” Daryl gruffed out, grinning, finally allowing himself to touch Rick. He took one hand and scratched through the soft, thick fur, enjoying the way Rick rumbled back at him.

And then, the wolf whined and curled up, and before Daryl could really wrap his head around what was going on, a very human Rick was lying down next to him, shivering and gasping in air, looking wide-eyed at Daryl.  
“What’s… happening?” Rick croaked out, his gaze shifting between Daryl’s face and his own hand, as if he expected it to grow claws without his consent and attack him unexpectedly.   
“Yer alive… Jesus fuck, Rick, _yer alive!”_ Daryl stated in astonishment, still grinning. Without thinking, overflowing with relief, he wrapped both arms around Rick tightly and dragged him closer, until there wasn’t any space left between them.

Rick tensed for a moment, but thankfully, he relaxed quickly, letting out a slow breath. Daryl didn’t ease up on his embrace, and soon, he had Rick hugging him just as tightly, Rick’s face pressed against his chest. There was something incredibly pleasing in Rick’s scent, something that lulled Daryl and calmed him down, until he could feel himself falling asleep again. He looked down briefly, only to find Rick already sleeping, huffing out small gasps and soft snores.

They slept until another evening rolled in.

 

-&-

 

When Daryl woke up, it was to his growling stomach. He yawned, then realized that Rick was still in his arms, pressed securely against his chest. He was still too warm, his fever-hot body like a furnace where it was touching Daryl’s, and Daryl frowned, pulling the blanket away a little.

Rick was mostly naked, shredded pieces of his clothes hanging loosely over his form, not really covering anything. They gave Daryl a clear view of Rick’s long, pale legs, and his surprisingly muscular chest. The man was way too thin, but there was no denying that there were very enticing shadows playing in the valleys along his lean muscles. Daryl bit his lip hard when he caught a glimpse of one pale ass cheek. He shook his head minutely, hoping to shake off the sudden wave of arousal which made his mouth water at the sight, then searched out the walker bite.

It was still there, looking like it was improving - if one could call being puffy and reddened an improvement… Daryl reckoned, it was still better than an open, bleeding wound. He shrugged and covered Rick again when he started to shiver minutely, fitting the blanket neatly around him, making sure there were no gaps that would let the chilly air in. It was surprising just how cold it could get inside a building tucked away from sunlight for the better part of a day. What made it even worse, was the werewolves’ natural attraction towards warmth - they absolutely _hated_ being cold, and would always seek out warm spots to nap in. It was also a part of the reason they would create huge nests consisting of pillows and blankets, and bury inside when the winter came.

Daryl frowned when his stomach growled again, reminding him that they hadn’t eaten anything in the last twenty-four hours… maybe more, in Rick’s case. He got up, careful not to disturb his sleeping friend, and wrapped one of the spare blankets around himself, then moved to his backpack to fish out some food.

He thought about getting some jerky for him and Rick, but glancing back at the Rick-shaped bundle lying amongst the pillows, Daryl wasn’t sure if jerky would be easy enough on him, especially that he was still fighting the walker infection from the bite. Besides, werewolves needed calories, and jerky had too little of those. Deciding against it finally, Daryl plunged his hand deeper into the backpack, producing two cans of peaches. They were both full of sugar and fruit, and even if they were still a far shot from chocolate - something werewolves _loved_ \- they would have to do.

By the time Daryl had the cans opened - his hunting knife needed some serious sharpening - and was thinking about waking Rick up, there was some shuffling amongst the blankets. Daryl jerked his head up, freezing when he saw Rick crawling across the bedding, his face sliding over the pillows, nose pressed to the linen in search of Daryl’s scent. He kept on moving sluggishly, until he finally landed in Daryl’s previous spot, in which he curled up and fell asleep again with a small sigh, one hand fisting in the blanket around him. Daryl watched him, mesmerized, admiring his wild curls sticking out in every possible direction. He got stuck on the slow rise and fall of Rick’s chest under the fluffy material. There was something about this picture that messed up Daryl’s brain - both parts of it in fact - and while the rational, human part thought _my friend is going to live,_ the wolf almost howled _my mate._

There was one thing that those parts shared, though, and the clarity of it scared him a little.

_Mine._

Daryl went back to Rick and seated himself on the other side this time, taking Rick’s previous spot. He placed one hand gently on Rick’s shoulder, ignoring his own instincts that prompted him to wake Rick up with a kiss. He was sure this kind of bullshit belonged to fairytales, anyway… not that he would have minded terribly if it had happened to him. That was Rick, and with Rick nothing was too cliche or too disgustingly sweet. Daryl was almost sure he could cover Rick in chocolate and lick it off of him to the tune of little birds’ singing in the background, and he still wouldn’t consider it sweet enough to be too much.

“Hey,” he prompted tentatively when Rick turned around on instinct, wincing and blinking his eyes open. Daryl’s breath hitched when he saw those baby blues crystal clear and focused, albeit tired.   
“Daryl?” Rick rasped out, swallowing reflexively.   
“Hang on.” Daryl went and grabbed a bottle of water from his backpack, then returned to Rick quickly. He helped him to sit up, then fed him a few sips, breathing out a sigh of relief when Rick drank it greedily, licking his lips afterwards.

_Rick was going to be okay._

“How are ya feelin’?” Daryl asked softly, trying not to sound worried. Rick hummed thoughtfully, closing his eyes, and Daryl held his breath unconsciously, until he opened them again.   
“I’m cold.”   
“Yer runnin’ a fever,” Daryl explained, nodding. “‘S the walker bite.”   
“Oh.”   
“Does it hurt or anythin’?”   
“A bit, yeah… but not like…” Rick trailed off, looking as if he was lost in his thoughts for a moment, eyes getting on a haunted look. Then he frowned and leveled his gaze at Daryl, eyes widening. “What… what have you done?” He asked hesitantly, the tone of his voice betraying surprise, rather than anger. _Thank god for that._

Daryl shrugged, feeding Rick a few more sips, before he closed the bottle and settled it on the ground. He took one of the cans and sat down next to Rick with his back to the wall, looking down at the peaches, biting his lip.   
“Had to change ya… ya were dyin’,” he muttered, hoping Rick would understand. They hadn’t really talked about changing anyone into wolves, certainly not Rick. Daryl had dreamed once about the both of them running around in a field, shifted into wolves, enjoying the late summer while they could.

_It had been a very nice dream._

“Yeah,” Rick agreed quietly. “That’s why… That’s why I came here.” Rick nodded, more to himself. “Didn’t want them to… find me. _Turned.”_   
“‘M sorry I wasn’t there,” Daryl whispered.   
“No, it’s okay. You were out. Hunting, right?”   
“Yeah.”   
“Did you catch anything?” Rick asked, glancing at him. There was a small spark in his eyes when Daryl told him about the buck he had dragged all the way to the prison.

“Was worried when I found ya… Had to do somethin’,” Daryl mumbled finally, staring studiously at the can of peaches in his lap. “Didn’t know if ya wanted it or not…”  
“I did.” Rick interrupted him, one of his hands shooting to Daryl’s knee. Rick looked down at it, as if surprised by his own action, before he withdrew it quickly, clearing his throat. “I thought about it… you know, back on the farm. But there was never a good time to bring it up.”   
“Bring what up?” Daryl raised his eyebrows in question.   
“Changing me. _Us._ Anyone from our family,” Rick elaborated, looking down at his hand that was now back to gripping the blanket tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.   
“Wouldn’t have done that, anyway,” Daryl muttered, shrugging. “‘S too dangerous.”   
“But you did it with me?”   
“Had to. Ya were dyin’. _Jesus,_ Rick, ya didn’ see yerself… ya looked half dead already when I found ya.” There was a little shiver that went through Daryl’s body, one that Rick noticed. He looked down at his hand again, then at Daryl’s knee.

“So… yer fine with this?” Daryl asked tentatively. Rick nodded slowly in confirmation, still looking down. His breath hitched when Daryl grabbed his hand with his own and pulled it closer, placing it on his knee again. “‘S okay.”   
“Daryl…” Rick tried, but trailed off, seemingly at loss.   
“Yer body’s still fightin’ the bite.” He decided to change the topic, giving Rick’s hand a small squeeze, then letting it go. He had shown Rick that he wanted this… _whatever it was._ The decision of what to do with it belonged to his friend.

_Daryl felt very warm when he realized that Rick’s hand wasn’t going anywhere - if anything, Rick curled his fingers a bit to better fit them to the shape of Daryl’s knee._

“I’m dizzy,” Rick said, closing his eyes for a moment.   
“‘S the bite,” Daryl repeated, feeling a bit helpless. Then he remembered the can of peaches he had been staring at still in his lap. It was weird how one’s mind could sometimes detach itself from reality so completely that it could ignore food the body needed so desperately. Especially when some serious overthinking was involved. “Yer probably hungry, too,” Daryl went on, picking up the can and fishing out one of the sweet peaches. He offered it to Rick somewhat sheepishly, remembering the way they usually shared food during supply runs.   
“Thanks,” Rick said, reaching for the offered fruit, eating it immediately.

It was sweet, it tasted heavenly, and Rick closed his eyes in delight. He had always liked peaches, especially canned ones. But this? Now? Rick wasn’t sure whether it was the fever still messing with his brain, or maybe something connected with the fact that Daryl had changed him into a wolf, but the peach was suddenly absolutely _delicious._

They shared both cans between them, until Rick felt too full to continue. His stomach lurched once or twice, the walker infection protesting his sudden intake of food, even if the wolf inside him growled for more of the sweet treat. He declined Daryl’s proposal at making him some tea, opting instead to drink more water - he’d be damned if he let Daryl go out into the late evening darkness to find him some godforsaken herbs for a cup of tea. There was something about Daryl that spoke to the wolfish side of Rick’s brain and heart, something that told him to keep Daryl close. And so, as soon as the cans had been disposed - tossed into one of the corners of the little building they were in - and their hands were free, Rick wrapped his arms around Daryl’s waist and tugged him down on the blankets, burying them both in the nest again. He was feeling cold once more, and Daryl seemed warm enough to keep both of them comfortable. Besides, having Daryl pressed against him calmed his mind considerably all on its own.

“Rick?” Daryl asked, voice so soft, Rick could swear he had never heard it sounding like that. His mind went back to the way Daryl had placed his hand on his own knee, to the way Daryl’s eyes had been shining when Rick had first woken up as a wolf.   
“Tell me I’m not wrong,” Rick whispered, equally soft. He leaned back a bit, eyes searching out Daryl’s, blue and almost glowing in the half-darkness around them.

_Tell me I’m not wrong about this. About us._

“Ya ain’t.” Daryl shook his head minutely, warmth spreading through him. Rick kept on staring at him, almost as if he was trying to memorize his face, and Daryl couldn’t really handle it. His stomach felt weird, as if a swarm of butterflies tried to eat him from the inside. His head was fuzzy, filled with cotton and quiet, _so quiet._ The only thing that was important, was Rick’s gaze boring into him, an unblinking stare that lit something deep down in Daryl’s guts, hot like molten lava.

Hesitating only for a fraction of a second, Daryl brought one hand to Rick’s face, cradling his cheek as gently as he could, rubbing his thumb just under Rick’s eye, following the sharp line of his cheek bone. Rick closed his eyes with a sigh, and Daryl couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and pressing their mouths together. The kiss was slow and tentative, a careful exploration that ended with a small, hesitant lick over Rick’s bottom lip, which brought forth a rumbling groan. Daryl could easily imagine them doing more - faster and harder, with grabby hands and some grinding involved. It was easy to think about the two of them going further than that, too, sinking inside with tongues, fingers, _cocks…_

For now, though, he gathered Rick in his arms, drawing him closer and keeping him securely against his chest, settling on chasing away the fever with small kisses placed on the top of Rick’s head.

 

-&-

 

When they went back to the C block two days later, wrapped in blankets and sporting spectacular bedheads, their whole group fell silent. Carl was first to react, standing up from where he was sitting behind the table and walking up to Rick, throwing his arms around Rick’s blanket-clad body and squeezing him tightly. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to - their happy smiles spoke volumes in the silence around them.

Much later, when the day was coming to an end, Daryl walked into Rick’s cell, smirking when he found Rick rearranging the space inside. He had his bunk removed and both of the mattresses placed on the floor, pushed together neatly to form one big bedding. He was currently moving pillows and blankets around, creating an approximation of the nest they had spent the last couple of days in.   
“Whatcha doin’?” Daryl gruffed out, leaning against the bars inside Rick’s cell. His friend - _lover? Please, god… -_ scoffed, then looked up at him.   
“Glenn and Tyreese helped me with removing that thing… thought we would have more space like this,” Rick explained, lying down and wriggling around to get comfortable. He stretched with a sigh, then patted the empty spot next to him. Daryl didn’t need to be told twice - getting into that nest was pretty much what he had wanted to do ever since he had walked in here.

“Rick -” Daryl started, but Rick interrupted him, tugging him down for a kiss as soon as Daryl was within an arm’s reach.

“Rick,” he tried again when they broke away, licking his lips, chasing Rick’s taste on them.   
“Yeah?”   
“Ya sure ‘bout this?” Daryl asked, biting his own lip until it turned white. Rick _tsked_ at him, then reached with his hand and pulled it free with his thumb.   
“I am… Daryl? What is it about? Are _you_ sure?” Rick asked back, frowning. Daryl hesitated, before he explained.   
“Wolves mate fer life,” he mumbled quietly. “What if ya change yer mind? Or find someone else? Michonne’s pretty nice…”   
“She’s not you,” Rick stated, shaking his head. “Besides, I hugged her today, just after we got back.”

Daryl ducked his head low, and Rick had to tuck his own hand under Daryl’s chin to make him look at him again.   
“I hugged her, and she smelled like family,” Rick went on. _“You_ smell like _home.”_ He said, voice serious. “My -”

Whatever Rick wanted to say next, got drowned between their mouths when Daryl brought them together for another kiss. This time, it was feverish and filthy, making Rick moan and turn to jello in his arms. It didn’t take long to undress the both of them, and it took even less time to put their mixed scents all over their new nest.

Not surprisingly, Daryl decided to abandon his perch and sleep with Rick instead, curling up amongst the blankets and pillows, hugging Rick tightly to his chest. Rick didn’t seem to mind being held like a giant teddy bear, protesting only when his feet got uncovered. They found a solution for that, too - it turned out that sleeping while shifted provided them with two fluffy tails to cover Rick’s feet.

Almost a year later, they had also discovered that werewolves were surprisingly effective not only against walkers, but also against maniacal governors trying to overtake prisons. It was a good news, too - neither Rick nor Daryl were really keen on changing the location of their nest, certainly not when the prison had become their home finally, with Rick’s green garden and Daryl’s hunting grounds.

 


End file.
